


through a traitor's eyes : momo perspective

by loserrobin



Category: Bleach
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25473583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loserrobin/pseuds/loserrobin
Summary: Her demeanor is cheerful, sunny disposition easing the Fifth Division subordinates when she passes, greetings friendly and warm. No one suspects her of villainy…Except, it seems, her Captain.His distrust is palpable in the way he eyes her, his statements laced with a caution that humors her. How strange he would ask for her obedience when shrouded with suspicion and it makes this game an excitable challenge.He moves around her like she is a cobra coiled to bite, fangs always at the ready, words a form of poison. Snide remarks are kept privately, almost as if he is afraid of what people will think of him, of what they’ll think of the way he thinks of her. Captain Hirako recoils at his own harshness yet second-guesses her every flinch as if he knows which parts of her are an act.
Kudos: 12





	through a traitor's eyes : momo perspective

**Author's Note:**

> First part of an exploration of Aizen and Momo trading roles, aka. Traitor!Momo. Thanks to [this lovely artist on twitter](https://twitter.com/yaponsko), I got inspired to write about the topic. This is my first dive back into Bleach fic so I had to reread some of the volumes for canon reference. There will be canon divergence tho, fair warning.
> 
> Second part will deal with after the 110 years spanning to Ichigo's involvement told through Aizen's perspective.
> 
> Unbeta'd currently so forgive any mistakes I've made, please.

i. hinamori.

She’s born to a cold world, filled with crime and cruelty, stained with the blood of the innocent and the sinners, and all the inbetween. She spends her youth caked in dirt, scrambling under the legs and arms of passersby too slow to catch her, living off dirty water and stale bread.

Momo despises it, them, everything she has to touch that is filthy.

She’s stronger than them all. She’s worth more than the shit beneath her feet.

At night when the cicadas call furiously in the night, where she lays on straw and hard floor, something reaches out to her. A beckoning voice, singing like a distant hum in the back of her head. Each night it gets louder, soft to melancholic and morphing into a frustrated vibration that rattles her skull.

One night she doesn’t sleep, waits and listens. The call comes again, and this time she follows her instincts, venturing to the forest of trees, moonlight spilling from between branches and leaves as she walks a dirt path. The ground begins to grow wet, toes curling in the mud at the edge of a pond, dark as the night sky, still and quiet.

Momo doesn’t know fear when she says,” Who are you?”

A ripple answers her, breaking the smooth surface of the pond. The voice calls out again, stronger and almost desperate, rooting her to the spot.

_You know my name. Speak. **Speak**!_

“I don’t,” she tries not to tremble, teeth gritted,” I don’t know your name!”

The voice may be stronger in her ears, bouncing around her head, but they are garbled like someone drowning, warped and hard to decipher. It pushes more, as if invisible hands have taken hold of her head and are squeezing.

_Say… my… name!_

The push becomes a pull, feet slipping in the mud, tipping her over. A loud _splash!_ as she is engulfed in water, shivering in the cold, arms and legs thrashing, but unable to break through the surface again. The buzzing of the voice disorients her, darkness surrounding her.

_My name!_ It roars.

Her frantic movements still, the hummingbird beating of her heart the only sound other than the thing that lives inside her head now. Momo thinks, thinks of the nights she would lie awake listening to the voice, trying to piece together what had been said.

A mouth opens, uncaring of the water rushing in, a wobbly scream muffled by water.

“Kyōka Suigetsu!”

A light glows from the bottom of the pond, rises up, tendrils slithering against her legs, up and up they reach, and push her to the surface. She spits out water and gulps in a new, cold breath of crisp air. Momo trudges out, weighed by the drenched, thin fabric of her kimono.

She realizes one of her hands is clutching something, the handle of a sword, long and sleek, beautiful and out of place in her dirtied, wet hands. It’s faint glow starts to fade, her thoughts quiet and still as the night.

Finally, she has answered. Finally she is reborn.

ii. hinamori.

Intelligence is something she hoards and harbors like a secret.

Over the years Momo has given up on finding an equal, sweetly smiles to those that’ll fawn and serve her with starry eyes, but inside she thinks they’re peasants. Kyōka Suigetsu whispers in her ears, fans the flame of desire for power, the want for more from this miserably cordial, mundane life.

And then she learns the existence of the Soul King.

Anger boils in her heart, disgust at being subservient to this being. Why should she bow to this false king when she is a goddess among spirits and mortals?

So she lies in wait, fosters a plan, _experiments_.

The Soul is a fickle, difficult design constructed of many facets ; it’s a gem, the more useful the soul, the better the diamond cut. Momo has figured this out through trial and error.

What good is a soul to her if it cannot help her obtain her goal?

Kyōka Suigetsu’s whispers become all-consuming : every thought revolves around this plan, cruelly spun words telling her to push harder, to sacrifice more lives.

_Nothing can stand in our way._

Momo smiles her way through the academy and shinigami ranks. They are all fools, they will all learn to worship her beyond this exhausting facade. They will have to or they will perish.

The Hōgyoku demands her darkest dream be fulfilled.

iii. hinamori.

Captain Hirako is an amusing man passed the initial frustration and annoyance. She doesn’t plan to have to stick by his side for long, she has higher goals than becoming lieutenant afterall.

“You smile too much,” he chides her and that is rich coming from someone with the biggest grin she’s ever seen, half expecting his face to split apart from the size and force.

“Don’t you want to see me happy, Captain?”

Her demeanor is cheerful, sunny disposition easing the Fifth Division subordinates when she passes, greetings friendly and warm. No one suspects her of villainy…

Except, it seems, her Captain.

His distrust is palpable in the way he eyes her, his statements laced with a caution that humors her. How strange he would ask for her obedience when shrouded with suspicion and it makes this game an excitable challenge.

He moves around her like she is a cobra coiled to bite, fangs always at the ready, words a form of poison. Snide remarks are kept privately, almost as if he is afraid of what people will think of him, of what they’ll think of the way he thinks of _her_. Captain Hirako recoils at his own harshness yet second-guesses her every flinch as if he knows which parts of her are an act.

It’s thrilling, this cat and mouse.

He softens over time, she notices with a hint of glee. And how careless, she thinks, a man with a gentleman’s heart can be.

“Stick close,” he says, but not out of kindness.

She has to fake a look of concern, staring up at him with wide, faux-innocent eyes. “But why, Captain? I promise not to tell anyone about how you tripped and almost broke your record player this morning.”

There’s a flash of satisfaction that hums inside her head at his disgruntled response, bringing a hand to his lips to shush her. _Fool_ , Kyōka Suigetsu sneers.

Momo is curious about this new Captain, Urahara. She’s heard rumors, has always pondered on infiltrating the 2nd Division’s ranks if only to obtain their secrets. Too obvious a position, she’d concluded, if she wanted to enact her plot ; afterall, there were more ways than one to find out what the Stealth Force was hiding.

Urahara posed an interesting new pawn to play with, a member of the Detention Unit that had overseen The Nest of Maggots, a prison filled with potential and known threats to the Soul Society. A source confirmed he’d been Corps Commander for a time and seemed to be heavily favored by the 2nd Division’s Captain, Yoruichi. Momo wondered what kind of obstacle he could pose and how she could _**use**_ him.

They arrived at the First Division barracks where the ceremony was to be held. Momo found the formality taxing, the promotion a boredom save for the chance to see the new face among their ranks. A mild form of entertainment came from a small body knocking Captain Hirako onto his face. She stepped politely to the side, having no difficulty in pulling an exasperated expression.

“Hey! Stupid Shinji!”, was the start of a whole debacle of insults back and forth between her Captain and Lieutenant of the Twelfth Division. Momo despised Hiyori’s bratty behavior, but it did distract Captain Hirako long enough some days to let her slip away.

_Dull children_ , Kyōka Suigetsu sighs, vexation in every syllable.

Momo’s lips twitch for a moment, the facade muddled for just a moment. She cannot let this break the careful mask she’s cultivated infront of these ants. She bites down on the displeasure bleeding through her veins, melting back into her role once another Captain makes an appearance to break up the petulant scuffle.

The barracks are dull and plain, almost dismal in it’s formality. Momo greets each Captain and Vice Captain she comes across politely, listening to the chatter amongst them all. She comes across interesting information, some things she knows secretly, some she does not. Captain Kyoraku speaks of the Royal Guard, the lap dogs of the Soul King. She has pondered how she can join their ranks, if her facade will last her long enough to do so.

_Too long_ , Kyōka Suigetsu hisses in her head. _Too long to wait._

The Captains and their lieutenants line up as the newcomer scrambles in. There is nervous sweat on his brow, a frazzled look to him as he hesitates in the doorway. Captain Hirako makes an off-hand comment about ‘slacking’ and ‘laziness’, but Momo tunes out the hypocrisy. She accesses and what she finds is… _interesting_.

_Useful_ , Kyōka Suigetsu agrees, a cruel smile in its voice.

iv. hinamori.

Captain Hirako, it seems, is also interested in the newly appointed Captain.

Perhaps that is out of concern for Lieutenant Hiyori, his soft spot for her underneath the push and pull relationship they seem to have. He’s always been full of contradictions.

Momo watches him talk to Captain Urahara in private. Her Captain is equal parts cruel and considerate, ever strange the way he shows his care.

She watches him depart, honestly startled at his voice,” How long are you gonna stand there?”

Fingers curled like claws rip apart the illusion, breaking her cover. She’s impressed he managed to see-through, let alone break it. Then again, he is a _Captain_ afterall.

“How long have you known I was there,” asked curiously.

Captain Hirako sends her an impatient look before moving forward. She’s certain there is anger in his voice when he answers,” Since you were in your mother’s womb. Let’s go.”

Narrowing her eyes while his back is turned. “Yes, sir.”

v. hinamori.

“Good. You’ve done well.”

Momo’s praises are light and feathery, caresses like a mother to their obedient child.

“You’re better than I’d heard.”

Momo had heard a young boy graduated from the Soul Reaper Academy in just **one** year. It was an impressive feat, something that had caught her attention. What kind of power did a boy yield if he could graduate in just a year?

He was a wispy thing, small, but long-limbed, would probably grow taller than her one day. His lips were cocked in an ever-present smile, the kind that held secrets, that laughed at you rather than with you. His silver hair was half-matted by blood, the metallic smell concentrated where he stood next to a body, the sword in his hand painted red.

A serene smile, unbothered by the display. “And how was our third seat?”

“Useless,” a boyish voice answered,” and boring. What a joke!”

She tilts her head, stepping just outside the pool of crimson at their feet, reaching forward to thumb a streak of blood splattered across the boy’s cheek. Her touch is gentle, almost tender as she regards him with interest.

“I’ll find you someone more fun next time, Gin,” she promises.

What luck, she thought, he chose Fifth Company.

vi. hinamori.

Nine years of planning, experiments, flying under the radar. Her planted seeds have grown into trees and the fruit of her labor tastes sweet on her tongue.

The look of horror on Shinji Hirako’s face is the sweetest of nectar. She laughs openly, cruelty in the tone, triumph flowing languidly through her veins. Tousen had played his part perfectly, lured them into a trap none would escape.

“So sad,” Gin says beside her, almost regretfully, but his expression doesn’t change. He’s a snake, Momo realizes, playing with his prey, ready to unhinge his jaw and strike at any moment, ready to devour them all whole.

“Traitor,” a garbled hiss as white develops half of Shinji’s head.

“Oh?” There’s humor bubbling from her throat, laughter rising up again. “Isn’t this what you expected, weren’t you convinced of something? Because this was inevitable.”

Glee shines in her eyes because finally she can be rid of all this trouble.

And then, not unexpectedly, a challenge approaches to undo all she’s worked so hard for.

“Urahara,” she greets. “I was wondering when you would appear.”

There’s a standoff and Momo has to decide between cutting her losses or risk getting caught. She flees, but she doesn’t intend on keeping loose ends.

Urahara is a branded traitor and he takes all the pesky, failed experiments that made up half the 13 Court Guard Squads with him. She’s disappointed they couldn’t be used further, but that only strengthens her resolve to work harder, to play smarter.

She’ll keep pushing and pushing and _pushing_.

Soon she’ll be rising again in the ranks, she will take over the Captain’s position of the Fifth Company, happily moving on from this dreadful event. None will be the wiser except for three.

If she felt any lingering fondness for her former Captain, it lies dead. Momo packs his things away and gives them a loving home straight into the garbage, thankful she won’t have to put up with the eccentric musical whims of the man. The room, his rank, his subordinates, everything becomes her own.

It’s almost… too easy, the change, the roll over.

“Captain Hinamori?”

She blinks, eyelashes fluttering while she looks up at one of the fourth seat officers. He’s a wiry young man, blushes when he meets her eye, stammering an apology while she waves a hand good-naturedly. She must be careful not to get too caught up in her thoughts, even if there aren’t as many eyes watching her, suspecting something beneath her skin, like she’s wearing a costume over the face of a monster.

If only any of these fools were smart enough to know they were right.

She gives her orders, paints herself like an angel in all their eyes with pleasant smiles and polite investment in their dismal lives. Kyōka Suigetsu slumbers like a dragon awaiting the moment to set fire to everything they’ve loved and protected.

But not now, not yet.

Momo falls into the mold and straightens the mask across her face.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking your time reading this. If you like this, be sure to check out my profile and other works! You can talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/teslawrites) or [tumblr](https://loserrobin.tumblr.com/).


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